


What She Is Not

by orphan_account



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: A+ seduction tactics, Also there's one (1) magneto joke I couldn't resist, Alternate Universe, Awkward Flirting, Eventual Smut, Eventual smut is now actual smut, F/F, Hana is an asshole, Intervention, Just gals being pals, Kinda, Lingerie, Masochism, Mental Instability, Punk D.va, Unhealthy S&M implications, Unrequited crush being requited, Vishkar Corporation AU, Vishkar Mecha Defense Program AU, Vishkar Symmetra, Yes that exists now, crack ship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-20 01:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10651833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: “I'm becoming concerned about you, Ms. Song. These self-destructive urges need to be channeled into something productive."





	1. You see, help is not what I need

**Author's Note:**

> Aka, Hana wants Satya's tail, but Satya wants Hana to not fuck up her own life and stop being way too excited to kill people.  
>    
> And also the AU is weird, basically Vishkar owns the Mecha program and uses it for defense, attack, ect.

“I'm becoming rather concerned about you, Ms. Song. These self-destructive and merely  destructive urges may need to be channeled into something more productive.”

Hana song was not unstable. She wasn't a basket case, clinging to every single person that offered her the slightest bit of support. She wasn't goddamn self-destructive, despite what was currently being suggested and had been suggested many times before.

So what if she enjoyed quite a few things in life a little rough? Maybe she liked being choked out and imagining she was drowning every time hands or a belt wrapped around her neck and just squeezed, the pleasure involved becoming either obsolete or unanimous with the pain. Perhaps it was just her brand of healthy to relish in being hit, spanked, beat, anything that would ache and mark her pale flesh in rainbow shades. It didn't matter what hurt her, as long as it was hard and fast and dirty, letting her love that uncontrolled feeling, that intense wave of pure adrenaline. 

So what if she was rather obsessed with improving herself on the battlefield, not to ensure victory, but to ensure more destruction. To add more of that blood-and-brain-matter-hitting-concrete tang that somehow managed to seep its way through her mech and into her mind until it drove her just a little wild. More of heads and torsos exploding with monet-esque swirls. More of all that jazz. Yeah-- Healthy.

But, apparently, her squad mebers had noticed one too many occasions where a gleam in Hana's eyes became much more than excitement as she emptied a couple blast cannon rounds into some goon, and so she was here. With her. 

To be honest, Hana didn't even know her real name. All she knew was Just Symmetra, her call sign. Wasn't even that creative, it was like, one letter away from symmetry. Someone had been taking naming tips from X-Men villains. 

Stupid call sign aside, Symmetra had cornered her and politely invited her into her fancy top-viskar-arcitech-yadda-yadda office for what was amounting to a tense and awkward intervention and/or therapy session. 

Wait, did it count as therapy if the so-called therapist was a one armed and unbelievably gorgeous, talented woman, and the patient was a surly barely-adult mech pilot who may have been lusting after said woman on the very few occasions she saw her? 

It was close enough.

Hana begrudgingly extracted herself from her contemplative reverie as Symmetra was prattling on about urges and whatnot. 

“Sorry, what?” She asked, raising her eyebrows and considering pulling out a dumdum and sucking on it just to show how uninterested she was in this conversation. Amazingly attractive superior giving her a lecture or not, Hana had a reputation of assholery to maintain.

The older woman frowned at her, steepling her fingers. 

“Simply put, Ms. Song, you're dangerous. Not only to yourself, but many others, and-”

“Well yeah, duh, aren't I supposed to be dangerous? They made me the captain of the noob squad for a reason.” Hana interrupted, smirking. 

“You know what I am inferring. If you are allowed to continue along this path of chaotic behavior, you and your…noobs, as you put it, could very easily be killed.” 

Hana considered this for a moment, leaning back in her uncomfortable yet brilliantly made guest chair- didn't this lady design all the stuff in her office? You'd think she'd prefer functionality over style- and attempted to stare down Symmetra. 

“Do you have an actual name or something?” 

Symmetra blinked, visibly surprised by the question thrown at her.

“I'm not sure what you mean, Ms. Song. My call sign should be adequate for you to refer to me as.” 

Hana rolled her eyes, pulling out a dumdum from her pocket stash and popping it between her shiny pink lips. She leaned forward, awkwardly scooted the awful chair forward until she could rest her elbow on Symmetra's desk, and very much got into her personal space. The unflinching posture of the woman across from her and slight lean forward was not lost on Hana, oh no. She'd learned how to read people over the years, and this was no exception. Intimidation was not going to work on her. 

“You said I need to be controlled, need to- how'd you put it- channel my self-destructive urges into something more productive? Well, I can think of two productive things I could do and one basically useless thing.” She quipped, the white plastic stick of her sucker sticking out at a jaunty angle from her crooked grin. 

“Please, enlighten me.” She responded indifferently, her cool gaze almost making shivers run down Hana's back. Good shivers.

“One, I could continue what I'm doing, which is be the best mech pilot this place's sorry excuse for a defense program has ever seen, despite whatever you say about danger,”

Symmetra frowned even more, if that was possible, and opened her mouth to most likely scathingly respond, but Hana stuck her finger up and stopped her, continuing. 

“Two, I could take a bunch of actual therapy from like, y'know, an actual doctor, but we both know I'd come back from that less determined and less of a pilot.” 

“Or, we have option three.” Her voice took on a silky edge to it and she leaned forward even more, ignoring the way Symmetra's eyes widened marginally at the sudden change in her tone.  
“I could channel my…urges into getting to know you much better. Destruction for an even better cause 'n all that. But, I'm gonna need your name as a starter,  Symmetra. Apparently you already know mine, so we're halfway there.”

The white-and-blue room seemed to become much smaller as the two women looked towards each other, the atmosphere between them charged almost to intensity. Symmetra didn't hold her stare but still was focused on Hana, not wanting to break the stalemate by saying something quite yet. 

Then Hana crunched her sucker loud enough for the noise to crackle around her office, and the spell was broken. She got off her desk and stood up, stretching and superficially brushing off her pilot's suit. 

“It's your choice, Symmetra. Take a pick. I know what my favorite option is.” She said as she strode to the door, fully prepared to leave without and answer, but Symmetra stopped her with a word.  
“Sayata. That's my name. Sayata Vaswani.” Symm--  Sayata said with a decisive air, a slight smile quirking her lips as Hana looked back at her from the door frame. 

“So! Sayata Vaswani chooses door number three.” 

“Yes, she does. If you would actually like to get to know me better, return here around nine thirty tonight. I'm willing to see what we can do with this energy of yours.”

Hana bit her lip coyly, trying very hard not to beam like an idiot at her proposal. God, she hadn't been expecting her to actually go for it, and now that she had Hana was feeling half over her head half exuberant. What did she have planned…? 

Sex, obviously- hopefully- but the way she said it made it seem…more than that. Much, much more.

Maybe Sayata would let her drown.


	2. But you are so magnetic, you pick up all the pins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She was a soldier, dammit, she leaped out of her mech exoskeleton and used it as a very expensive bomb on a regular basis and yet here she was, feeling anxious over a _girl._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we have the start of the tail-getting. Don't do this at home, kids, actually take someone to dinner first or something, okay?

As Hana walked down the minimalist and infinite feeling hallway that wound throughout that floor of the Vishkar company building and eventually led to Satya's office, she couldn't help feeling a tinge of nervousness amid her excitement. The hallway stretched on, and with every leather-booted step she took she tried to mentally chide herself. She was a soldier, dammit, she leaped out of her mech exoskeleton and used it as a very expensive bomb on a regular basis and yet here she was, feeling anxious over a _girl._ The most they would do was probably eat each other out and be on their ways, honestly, there was no reason to be so worked up.

Well, there was no reason to be nervous, but the image of Satya's perfect, glossy-haired head in-between her legs, of Hana twisting her fingers into that silky curtain of ink-black strands and pulling-- that was working her up plenty. God, what sounds would she make? Did she scream? Not likely. Was she-- was she a squirter, daresay?

Hana smiled to herself and quickened her pace a bit, the full thuds of her boots hitting the sleek tile resounding just a little too loud amongst the bare walls.

She felt almost scandalous every time one of Vishkar's well-groomed office employees passed her by, eyes flicking to her shaggy short hair and odd clothing. It was as if their brief glances could see through her non-regulation leather jacket to the strappy black lingerie underneath. After Satya's little intervention this morning, she'd just about run back to her apartment to pick out a set for this incredulous occasion. However, by the time she'd decided on this complicated, gold button-studded bra and underwear, it was almost nine-ten and she had to motor. Maybe it was a little too much to be this prepared, or perhaps it would be appreciated?

She could only guess. Satya was running this show, after all, and Hana was running late.

And with that thought, Hana had arrived at the nondescript brass-plated door to her office. Letting her fingertips play across the block numbers stamped into the metal for an instant, she took a deep breath and knocked out a dorky little beat on the wood.

A musical, amused voice that Hana was ten thousand percent not prepared for answered.

“Please, come in.”

 _Fuck,_ was that Satya? Hana had never, ever heard her sound like that. She sounded like sex soaked in honey, for God's sake. If it made her mouth go dry almost instantly just from those three words, what was she going to sound like when…

She hurriedly turned the door nob and slipped inside, shutting the door behind her with a snap.

“Lock it, please.” Hana obeyed, pressing the little lock button with a twitch of her mouth at the loud click. Very inconspicuous.

Hana glanced over at her desk with the expectation to see her sitting there, maybe with an indulgent smile on her face, but she was oh so wrong. So, so very wrong, and she was extremely thankful for it, even as she did a double take.

Satya was perched on the edge of the pale wooden surface, her posture as perfect as ever, long, elegant legs folded impeccably. Her hair was down from her usual bun and cascaded over her artificial shoulder and over one eye in a glossy waterfall of ink that ended at her chest and successfully drew attention to the expensive-looking lace lingerie she was wearing, not to mention her very nice cleavage.

Best of all, she was wearing knee-high, shiny black leather boots and holding a matching riding crop.

Simply put, she was fucking sublime. Drop-dead spectacular. Please-step-on-me amazing.

She parted slick, deep red lips, and gazed at Hana from under her lashes, smiling imperceptibly.

“You're late, Ms. Song.” She said, going from amused to frighteningly devious in an instant.

“I--”

“No excuses. You had strict instructions, and you failed to comply.” Hana swallowed roughly. Oh, god, she thought she knew what to expect and this…this was something from her late-night fantasies, something she'd imagined more or less to these exact specifications many times while fingering herself breathless and trying not to wake the neighbors.

“You're a military woman, are you not, Ms. Song?”

“Yes, I'm- yes.” God, she sounded like a choking cat to her own ears, imagine how she sounded to her.

“Well then, you understand the system of failure and punishment, correct?”

A stiff nod in response.

Satya gestured up and down Hana's frozen form with the riding crop, tilting her head.

“Strip. Then we can see where to go from there.”

Oh, hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This and the next chapter were supposed to be one, but it got a little long so I split it about halfway.


End file.
